A Diffrent Look
by Jadecoyote
Summary: This story follows Rorschach outside of battle against the unjust in the city. This story shows the other side of the coin, Walter Kovacs. What his life is on a normal basis and someone who witnessed it first hand, but had no idea how one life.
1. Walter Kovacs

A Diffrent Look

Jadecoyote

Rated: T+

(Authors note: I havent written a fanfic in a long time since I am working on a novel and some short stories. This is a Rorchach story, but this is written with great care and respect for Alan Moore. I know that Rorchach/Walter Kovacs is a right wing-nut job. This isnt some mary-sue ship at all. I dont believe in changing the personality of a character. He has very little respect for modern women in the 80s when the story took place. I am just putting another look on someone who knew him who was there. I didnt want you to get the wrong idea. I own nothing. This is Alan Moore's work. Please just review and enjoy)

October:1985

Emily Lancaster stood by the window looking out at the rain. She hated thunder storms and the pounding rain smearing her view of the street outside. New York had become a cold place for the past years now. It seemed that things were getting worst. Her life was not one that was interesting or unoriginal. She grew up in Portland, Maine, her father had been a fisherman and her mother a nurse. Emily's life hadn't been anything special. She worked in her mother's shop and grew up following in her mother's footsteps. It was cold fate or something worst that changed her life forever. Her father died in a hurricane and her mother had gotten very sick. They moved to New York for the last three years. Her mother passed when she finished college to becoming a nurse. After that she gave up nursing and rented rooms needng money. Since then she rented rooms to pay for the house and house hold needs. Right now there was a family of three staying in one of the three rooms and one empty. The final room was being rented by a strange man. She bearly saw him when he first rented the room. He minded his own and didn't come down to eat meals. The rent was always on time so she didn't pay him much mind. As she stood by the window she reflected on the first time she met Walter Kovacs.

April: 1984

It was a quiet afternoon. The sun was low in the summer sky. She didn't really have time to look out the window with her waitressing down as Al's Burgers during the weekdays. She came home smelling of grease and frenchfries and she was eager to take a shower. The streets weren't safe to walk on when it was getting late so she grudgingly paid for gas and took her beat up old car to and from work. Pulling up to the house dressed in a pair of black slacks and a blouse she forced the door open that sometimes got stuck. Sighing softly she closed the door and locked it. Going to the front door she felt the breeze in her blond hair, her sapphire blue eyes showing weariness as she walked to the door with the key ready, nervous that someone would attack her. Emily dug the ball of her shoes into the stone walkway and waited, holding her breath. When nothing happened she turned and put the key in the door hearing the metallic grinding. With a click she turned the knob and pulled it open. Darkness met her as she stepped into the house. Shutting it she locked it once again and put the chain on. Since she is renting rooms she knew not to leave personal things out so securing her purse against her shoulder she gave a glance around and walked up the stairs. They creaked under her shoes causing her to sigh softly. Faintly she could hear a radio playing to the right in the bedroom at the end of the hall. On further inspection she could see that the light was on. No big deal. She would of walked by without thinking much of it but the sound of gutteral coughing caught her attention. It wasn't the kind of coughing of the common cold. Against her better judgement she approached the door. Before she could reach the door though it opened a few inches and a man stood there. He was short by stature with copper-brown hair, his face was battered and worn but with eyes of clear intellegence. Emily took a few steps staring at the man dressed in a white whitebeater shirt and dark slacks.

"What do you want?"he asked his voice was low, almost husky but filled with suspicion. Swallowing her suprise she realized she had seen this man before. He was the man who was seen in downtown New York with the sandwich board that read; "THE END IS NIGH' on it. This did not quell her weary feelings since this man upon observation was absolutely out of his mind. When she said nothing he let out a grunt mingled with a cough. Emily came to her senses a few moments before he closed the door one her.  
"Wait!"she cried. "I heard you coughing. I am have my degree in nursing. Let me help with that cough. It sounds serious"she pleaded despite her misgivings.

"I'm fine. Leave me alone" the man replied with reluctance and stubborness. This frustrated the young woman making her just as stubborn.

"It sounds like you were out in the rain storm a day ago and caught a chest cold. Let me help."she pressed on as if he hadn't told her to go away, her blue eyes flashing with determination. The man didn't even answer her, but instead he turned and walked deeper inside the room conviently leaving the door open. Before further going in she walked to her own room and grabbed her medical kit with a scapel in it. She wasn't a dummy by any stretch of the imagination. Going back to the partly opened door she stepped inside and saw him sitting there, his eyes keenly focused on the radio. Emily stepped inside and closed the door behind herself with a click. He turned his attention back to her and let out a soft breath. "I told you to leave me alone!"he repeated but did not rise from where he was sitting.

"I know you did, but I am going to take care of that cough. I don't want one of my tenents dying on me from something that could easily be taken care of"she informed him. Her words were met with a weary expression. She noted how his body language was tense as she neared him with the kit. Opening it she retrieved a bottle of cough medicine, the easiest fix. Opening it she pulled out a small cup and poured some in and offered it to him. At first it looked like he wasn't going to cooperate with her. 

"Don't you have anything better to do then to take care of strangers?"he asked absolutely grudgingly. "I have no family and I just graduated from the nursing program"she told him and watched as he downed it. She actually expected him to make a face but he did it without flinching.

"My name is Emily Lancaster. I own this house."she said. "Hmph. A woman shouldn't be in a house all by herself renting it out to strangers. Just isnt right" he informed her in the most tactless tone. The color rose in her face as she stared at him. "I work at a resturant down the street and renting rooms is how I make money. As I told you my family is dead. I am not some common street walker!'she said indignently, the color rising in her face. For a moment he was quiet, digesting the disgusting smelling syrup.

"...My name is Walter Kovacs"

(This is just the beginning. As I said before I am diving into the complexness of Walter Kovacs. Now him and Rorshach are two diffrent animals all togather. Rorshach is the true face and Walter is the mask. I am clearly a big fan of Watchmen and I don't want to screw up the character. I hope you like this and wish to see what happens next. The events will come to the events of Watchmen if you are patient.)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Rorschach 

(Author's note: Thanks for all the support. Yes I have skimmed some of the fanfics out there and they are quite repugnant. It seems people don't seem to understand the characters they are writing or making them into what they want them to be. Blah. Anyway here is the next chapter)

The day was unusually balmy when Emily stood up and walked to the window pulling it open. Three months had passed since she had first met the man in room 2, Walter Kovacs. He was an enigma within a riddle. Since the day she taken care of him even after his stubborn refusal he seemed to open up little by little. Of course he kept most of his secrets to himself and that was fine with her. No need to pop the preverbal bubble by uncovering something worst and worst. Sighing to herself she stood in the dining room of the house. The news paper sat on the table. A newspaper laid sprawled out upon it. Despite the Keen Act that outlawed masked heroes there was one that still worked as a vigil-anti, Rorschach. There was a trail of violence and criminals put behind bars because of him. Years ago there was a group of masked heroes called the Watchmen, the second generation of crime fighters keeping America and the streets safe. On the stairway there were footsteps and Walter came in dressed in a wife beater and pants. He was cleaner then he usually is due to the fact she was doing his laundry. Why did she help him? It was something that even she could not answer. He seemed to need it more then others. Not that she felt bad for him. Walter was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but she seemed to enjoy doing it for him. Looking at her he paused in the doorway as if not expecting anyone to be there, though it was early in the morning. Had he forgotten she got up really early to get her day going? For a moment they stared at each other without a word between them.

"…Morning" Walter said and clamored to the table and sat himself down where a bowl under a plate was sitting, the utensils nestled at its sides. Blinking she smiled slowly. "Good Morning" she said softly and walked to the stove and removed the pan where the bacon had been sizzling, the oatmeal kept warm. Emily had discovered that he wasn't a big eater any time in the day. From their conversations she pieced together his past. His mother had been a neglectful prostitute and he had trouble in school. Emily secretly wondered if that is why he let her take care of him despite his stubborn complaint. Perhaps deep down he wanted to be cared for by someone. She was just a waitress what did she know. After putting the food out she sat across from him and slowly started to eat, glancing at him once and a while well he reached for the paper and picked it up, starting to flip through it. He let out a grunt after a moment and tossed it aside in objection, looking put out by what he saw.

"Do you plan on doing anything interesting today?" she asked trying to make conversation. Even though they were no longer strangers she still felt shut out. "Interesting..hm" was the reply she got from him as he took a bite of his oatmeal. Emily knew what he was going to do. Most likely he was going to walk outside with that sign. Once during their conversations she asked why he did so. "The world has to end sooner or later. With the shameless indulgence and thoughtless ambitions people seem to forget. Man is only mortal and everything meets its grisly end" that was his reply. It wasn't about religion or faith, only simple fact. Black and white was how Walter Kovacs saw the world. His rigidity was shocking and appalling at times, but at the same time held a sort of fascination. The conversation ended there falling flat. When breakfast was finished she cleared the dishes from the table. Walter had gotten up and left, not even bidding her farewell. It left a hollow silence inside of her. She knew he didn't go to work-that he had money stashed away somewhere and that's how he is paying the rent. She didn't ask a lot of questions…again she didn't want to know. Perhaps in time she would unravel some of the secrets, but for now ignorance was bliss.

Night fell early it seemed. The sky darkened with the departure of day. The woman who lived upstairs came down to dinner with her two children. It was nice company to have, but Walter was missed. That morning he had stepped out and didn't come back all day. Emily found herself missing the strange man who had enriched her life in ways that she couldn't describe. Again the reasoning was lost on her like a scream on deaf ears. They weren't anything to each other except awkward company at least, friendly at most. He had come into her life like a ship coming into port, and she was that moth to his unruly flame. The downstairs was empty except for herself. The children of the woman upstairs were tucked in. Emily alone was left there to make sure everything was secure. The door from the outside opened and she raised her gaze toward it. At first she didn't see anything but the light from the dining area casting shadow upon the stairway leading upstairs. Then she saw a man stepping in. This man was wearing a brown trench coat and matching fedora. The most unusual feature was the mask that was black and white and changed once and a while. Fear gripped her as she let out a short breath, the color fading from her face. Taking a step back she felt the temptation to run and hide, call the cops. The masked man came forward though he was stumbling a bit causing her a shot of terror. Turning she started toward the kitchen.

"Emily wait!" he called out and reached out gripping her arm. In the haze of her fear his words sunk in and suddenly she recognized that voice. She knew who the masked man is. Not only that he is the one named Rorschach , but under the mask the voice was Walter Kovacs…one and the same. His grip on her arm was hard enough that it would bruise but not enough to do damage. Turning she stopped moving and stared at him wide eyed. "Emily" he repeated starting to loosen his grip. "Walter?" she asked though she knew it was true. Taking a step back he removed his hat and pulled the mask back, something he had not done in a long time. "The mask I wear is my face. The face you see is my mask" he said gazing at her. His breathing was ragged and his body shivered as they stood together, once again seemingly frozen in time, but not as they had been. A veil had been lifted and she felt even more drawn into his world. A world of forgotten heroes. Walter stood there looking at her his body giving another spastic jerk telling her that something was wrong. Reaching out she grabbed the edge of the front of his trench coat and slid her fingers down to the sash. Undoing the belt she pulled it open to his shirt. There she saw on his shoulder a bleeding gunshot wound, the blood flowing down the fabric the hole dark along the edges from the hot metal. The bullet seemed to till be lodged in the muscle. "Help me" he said. Of course he wouldn't of come to the house wearing his mask unless he was wounded. This was the face he had been keeping from her for months. His mask was where he went to to escape. Emily was quick to act leading him upstairs to his room and sitting him down. This felt like déjà vu to her as she went and got the medical kit. This wasn't a cough though. No, this was something even more serious. Knowing who he really is she couldn't take him to the hospital. There was no way she could explain such an injury without the police investigating. He is a wanted man. By the time she got back he had peeled the trench coat off and placed the hat and mask at his side. Kneeling by him she pulled out the pliers and alcohol. Biting her lip she looked up at him.

"Are you sure you want me to do this. It will hurt you?" Emily asked her voice filled with trepidation. "You must or it will become infected. Don't be afraid" He replied. Mustering her courage she first disinfected the wound, unable to take his shirt off without causing further pain. Having nursing experience she retrieved the small metal scissors and starting at the bottom she carefully snipped the shirt off of him, it being the only option she had. Next she took the swabs and soaked them with the alcohol solution causing him to hiss through gritted teeth. Glancing at him only once she stuck the already disinfected pliers into the wound and locating the bullet. With skill she extracted it and tossed it to the ground. His breathing was still shallow but his body had started to calm down. Finally she cleaned and dressed the wound. She looked at him with her blue eyes as he sat there his face etched with determination to resist showing pain.

"Your Rorschach." Emily stated without asking. The whole situation was like a strange dream. Alice falling down the rabbit hole. Strangely it didn't change how she felt toward him. Heck, it even answered some of the question that had been at the tip of her brain, but too afraid to ask. "Yes" He replied. The one word confirmed even what her own eyes had told her. Kneeling up she was face to face with the man who had changed things for her once again. The game was always changing for them. Gazing into his eyes she felt herself leaning forward very slowly. Walter looked at her with half closed eyes, the wound was no longer throbbing, but the pain still remained. As she leaned forward he dipped his head down evasively his forehead almost touching her nose.

"Don't lower yourself because of me. I see you as above the baser emotions and lies" he said in a voice like gravel. She didn't know if she should be hurt or flattered by his words. "You need to sleep" Emily said quietly and stood up and reached out grabbing the covers and pulled them back. Helping him remove his shoes she tucked him into bed and left him to rest, her mind reeling and whirling.

End of Chapter Two.

(Note: I know I talk a lot. I hope you liked this. Again I am trying to be true to the character. This was before the little girl investigation that would harden him and pull him deeper into his madness. I still think due to his mother's profession and his childhood abuse that he would find emotion, and anything close to a relationship as base and untrue. I don't know its just how I see him. Clearly he thinks very highly of Emily despite these feelings. I will write next the investigation that would forever change him. I will also recount the events of Watchmen from Emily's perspective)


	3. Author's Note

Dear Reader,

You have brought to my attention that I am showing the "butchered Rorschach as everyone else who feels like Watchmen needs their OFC" are the words you used well claiming that noone else gets him. I was angry at first at your words, but with time to reflect on your words I realized that you are right. It is hypocritical to claim that I am giving a true voice well bringing in a character that is my original idea. I guess they are right when they say "hell is paved with good intentions". My intention was to potray him by how Alan Moore wrote him. That he is narrow minded, right winged, seeing things only in black and white. I forgot that the only true person who knows what goes on in Rorschach's mind is Alan Moore. How could I as a writer assume that I can embody it and introduce a character that wasn't in the Watchmen world. I write this with humility that I was wrong. I should not of commented that people don't get Rorschach when writing a fanfic. That was stupid. A fanfic is a world where writers can shape characters. I should swallow my ego and remember what I am writing. I have been spending alot of time writing original work and even a novel is in the works that I forget that writing a fanfic is a whole diffrent thing. I shouldn't put down others for their creativity when they are using their imagination, even when I might not agree on their way of showing things. Again I apologize.

Humbly,

Jadecoyote


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